Notions of the Heart
by AGirlAndABeast
Summary: The gang have just finished enjoying a barbecue at the Lannister residence, when an argument about potential rainfall leads to a confession. Sanrion. Braime. Gendrya.


**Title:** Notions of the Heart  
**Author:** Demelza  
**Disclaimer:** Game of Thrones and its characters belong to GRRM and HBO. I'm just borrowing them here for a little while. No infringements of any copyrights are intended.  
**Genre:** Teen AU  
**Pairing:** Jaime/Brienne, hints of Gendry/Arya and Sansa/Tyrion.  
**Rating:** O13  
**Summary:** The gang have just finished enjoying a barbecue at the Lannister residence, when an argument about potential rainfall leads to a confession. Sanrion. Braime. Gendrya.

**Author's Note: ** This is a slight age-altered, teenage modern AU.

\/

It was night out, and the six of them, Tyrion, Sansa, Jaime, Brienne, Arya and Gendry were hanging out in the Lannister's backyard. They'd been having one of Tywin and Joanna Lannister's famous barbecues for no other reason than it was summer and a barbecue sounded like a great idea, and while Tyrion and Jaime's parents had gone inside with all their hoity-toity guests the last fifteen minutes had seen a debate emerge between the teens as to whether or not it was going to rain tonight.

Jaime swore by his fake hand that it was going to rain, while Gendry was damn sure it wasn't. As bulky and sport-minded as Gendry was, he was very techno-minded as well and had spent the better part of fifteen minutes tracking down every website he could find that proved Jaime wrong.

"It's not going to rain," Gendry said mindfully, standing while the rest were seated. He was looking directly at Arya, who sat on one of the garden chairs beside Jaime and Brienne. She was pulling faces, mocking him, when he let out a loud sigh. "You saw me looking up the weather websites, and not one of them predicted rain!"

Sitting atop the large dark green picnic table, Tyrion, bored and annoyed with the conversation entirely, let out a sigh and glanced sideways at Sansa. She was looking back at him, small smile on her lips, and honestly, he kind of hated when she did that. He liked her. He really, really liked her. And when she smiled like that the growing urge to tell her he liked her rose in his gut and made it do summersaults.

He figured she knew she did that to him, because her smile began to grow and she'd bite her lip to stop herself from doing so.

It was cruel.

He knew it. She knew it.

Hell, Jaime had spent the past year tormenting Tyrion over the fact he had a crush on the eldest Stark sister. And he shouldn't have, he knew that, but they'd spent the better part of two years living in King's Landing while studying at the prestigious King's College in preparation for their university studies once they were of age.

Sansa had been here a year longer than her year-younger sister, Arya, and that year meant a lot of tears for home and Tyrion being the only shoulder she cried on.

That meant they were 'besties', as the younger Stark called them.

'Besties' meant he couldn't tell Sansa that he dreamed about her nearly every night, that he'd aligned his classes to match with hers, and planned to study here in King's Landing instead of abroad like his father wanted him to. All so they could stay as they were.

But he didn't want them to stay as they were. He hated what they were.

Well no, that wasn't entirely true. He loved that they were so close they shared almost all their secrets and spent long nights studying together.

What he hated was that next year they were going to be seniors and she was definitely going to become someone's girlfriend. Which shouldn't be a problem, he realized, because she certainly wasn't his girlfriend – despite the fact he so desperately wished she was.

Suddenly, Arya's words burst through his fast-racing thoughts.

"You're an idiot, Gendry."

This immediately caught Tyrion's attention and he looked over to the tall Baratheon boy, whom the younger Stark was walking straight towards. Without warning, she shoved him playfully, though it was overshadowed by Gendry's defiant exclamation that he was, in fact, not an idiot.

But he was, because everyone – everyone except Gendry, that was – could see that the sixteen year old had an overt crush on the boy. But his gadgets, school work and sports were so much more important than the world around him, so he was damned oblivious to what Arya most definitely felt towards him.

And it made Tyrion wish that he was oblivious to the way he himself felt for Sansa. If he had none of the feelings he did, his most recent school year wouldn't have seen him reprimanded multiple times for not paying attention in class and his slipping grades, which his dear mother was starting to get overly fractious about.

It was not Sansa's fault, despite what Jaime claimed. It was Tyrion's.

He spent more time day-dreaming than he did paying attention.

As a child his day-dreams weren't an issue, but as he got older – and most definitely after he found himself falling in love with his best friend – grades were marked, and those marks decided whether or not one got into the King's University. Sansa had already been pre-accepted because of her grades, but Tyrion's grades weren't noteworthy to the illustrious alumni that forwarded the grades of the top-achieving kids of the King's College.

Tyrion blinked out of his thoughts, his bad grades making him feel worse about his feelings for Sansa, and he focused on his friends.

Brienne, who had at some point begun lovingly raking her fingers through Jaime's golden locks, looked towards her best friends. "You're not an idiot, Gendry..." she vowed.

"Thank you!" Gendry said loudly, shoving Arya back just as playfully before pulling her back towards him and draping his arm around her shoulders like the completely platonic pals he thought they were.

"But Jaime did say it was going to storm," Brienne added, giving him an 'I'm sorry' look.

"Oh, sorry," Gendry said, bowing slightly, "I forgot your boyfriend has special powers and can tell when a storm's com..." No sooner had his rambling, and very much sarcastic words, began to leave the other boy's lips when a faint rumbling of thunder could be heard off in the distance. "Damn..."

Arya and Brienne both laughed, and Jaime cracked a wide smile, holding his arm adorned with a fake, solid-gold hand in the air. "It's all in the wrist," he said.

Gendry, flustered that he was wrong, let go of Arya and stuffed his hands deep into his jeans' front pockets.

Arya continued laughing and grabbed hold of his Gendry's arm, reached up on the tips of her toes and planted a quick peck on his cheek. "Come on, I'll drive you home."

"And hear you laugh at me some more? No thanks," he said, pulling away from her.

She pouted. "You promised we could watch that silly movie you love so much."

"And you said that you'd make a big bowl of caramel popcorn," Brienne said beside Jaime, whom she lazily interlocked her fingers with.

Tyrion swallowed at the sight. He and Sansa were never going to be anything more than friends. Never. There'd be no hand-holding, no kisses to the cheek, no dancing, no making out, no nothing that even remotely resembled the love he felt for her.

"Fine," Gendry said, giving in, "But if anyone throws their popcorn at my TV one more time I'll..."

"You'll what?" Arya challenged, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked up at him. "Well? Come on, I'm waiting."

"You'll uh, I'll..." The Baratheon boy cleared his throat, and rather loudly at that. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

Gendry was a sweet kid though, despite his strong and tall form. He was all talk in the way that Jaime wasn't; no one dared mess with his older brother, nor Tyrion himself thanks to his overgrown protector.

And Arya, well Arya was sweet on Gendry. And movie night was almost always the same: Jaime and Brienne cuddling on the bean bag, Arya and Gendry sitting on the bed, and him and Sansa sitting awkwardly beside one another on the floor. Arya and Brienne liked to throw popcorn at the TV, and if Gendry tried to exert some kind of dominance over the remote – it was his TV and DVD player so he had every right to – then Jaime would toss a handful of the sticky popcorn at Gendry.

Tyrion loved it. It made him laugh, it distracted him, and Sansa would end up inevitably fighting with him for the popcorn so she could throw some at the TV – or Gendry – too. Their hands would touch in the bowl, she'd rub the popcorn in his hair, but where she thought he had better manners and was the perfect gentleman by not partaking in the foolery too – honestly he only remained the one neutral party in the situation because if he did anything it would be to cup Sansa's face with his butter-covered fingers and kiss her with the kind of passion he dreamed of doing.

"Okay, I'll go tell the olds we're heading to Gendry's for a movie," Jaime said then, and when he gave Brienne a quick parting kiss before he got up from the seat it made Tyrion hate him.

He didn't want to hate his brother. He didn't want to hate any of them. He didn't even want to hate himself.

But he was jealous. He was really jealous.

He was jealous of what Jaime and Brienne had. He was jealous of the fact Jaime could use his words to court who he thought was the hottest girl in school.

Meanwhile, Tyrion used his words to impress Sansa with facts and figures about biology and chemistry that might have done him good in the job he hoped to get after his schooling was over and done with, but he didn't know how to say: I'm in love with you.

And that made him hate Jaime and Brienne.

So when Jaime darted out the porch door no less than a few minutes later, a baggy zip-up hoodie now covering his chiseled face, Tyrion decided he wasn't going to go to this stupid movie night. They only had a few months left in the school year and if he was going to get away from this city and his stupid feelings for Sansa then he'd better study his ass off.

"Right, let's do this," Jaime announced, and Brienne darted over towards him, wrapped her arms around his waist as he encircled her with his stupid hoodie.

Gendry and Arya moved out towards the side gate, but stopped when they – like Jaime and Brienne – noticed that neither Sansa or Tyrion were moving.

"Uh, I've got a headache guys," Sansa told them, "It's the storm. You know how I get, Arya..."

"Oh, damn. I thought we could gang up on the guys again like we did last time," Arya said with a sigh. "You'll be okay, you'll get back to the dorm safe and sound?"

"Yeah I'll be fine," Sansa half-smiled. "You guys go, and we'll do this again next week. Promise."

Arya and Gendry left out the gate, while Jaime and Brienne moved towards it in their almost-as-one state.

Over his shoulder then, Jaime said, "Tyrion, keys are in the ignition of my Challenger; make sure your girl here gets home safe, okay?"

Tyrion nodded. "Yeah, no problem."

His girl though? Sansa wasn't his girl anymore than he was her guy.

Gods he hated Jaime for saying it like that.

And then the group of six was two, and Tyrion couldn't move.

"You okay, Ty?" Sansa asked.

She was the only one who called him that. Certainly the only one he'd let, anyway.

He used the seat of the picnic table nearest to him to climb down, and, without looking at Sansa, he motioned for her to follow him. "Yup, totally one hundred percent fine," he said, and he walked for the gate.

Sansa was up from the table and walking faster than he was – and before he'd even reached the gate she'd pushed it closed and stood leaning with her back against it, her hands firmly pressed on the painted boards behind her.

He stared at her quizzically. And then he blinked and did it again, tilting his head off to the side. "Sansa?"

"Spill it," she said, brow furrowing just so.

"I'm a shit driver and I'm probably going to get us both killed?"

"That's not true, and that's not what's going on." She knelt before him then, not even giving a shit that her expensive jeans were getting dirt and grass on them. "I know you, Tyrion. Better than almost anyone else."

"And I'm a shit driver." He put both his hands in the air, "Honest to the old gods and the new."

And her hands immediately met his; she interlocked her fingers with his – probably without meaning to – and brought their hands level between one another.

She said, "You don't think I've noticed? You've… changed."

She was right. He had changed.

But she was never meant to notice.

"Best friends, remember?" she said, and she loosed her hands from his and both their hands fell to their sides. "I know you, Tyrion." Her voice was softer this time. "Talk to me."

"Talk to you?" It sounded more accusatory than a question. He didn't mean to sound like that. "You're... my best friend."

She tried to smile, but the tone was still the same. The look on her face was as if she thought he was blaming her for whatever the hell was going wrong.

He was.

"I'm… I'm in love with you, Sansa."

And her breath hitched. Tears followed, but she held them back. "And that's my fault?"

"No. No, gods no it's… it's not your fault."

"But it's why your grades are slipping."

"No." Except they were, but it wasn't her fault. It truly wasn't. He knew in his heart it wasn't. But the words… the words came out harsh, "Actually, yes. If I wasn't in love with you I wouldn't spend my days thinking about being with you."

"Well… that's…. that's bullshit."

"I know," he said, and gods he felt awful right now. He felt awful for his words, he felt awful for his tone, he felt awful for how he was hurting her.

"No, you don't know, Tyrion!" Sansa's voice came out loud, but she shook her head and rose to her feet. "I'm just going to go. I'll walk back to my dorm."

"That's blocks away," Tyrion said, and he reached for her hand just in time to stop her. "Look, I'm sorry, Sansa. I'm really sorry. I'm an asshole. I'm a shit driver and I'm an asshole."

"Yeah and I've been in love with you since the first week we met and I never once made you feel like shit for making me feel the way I do!"

She loved him?

She couldn't love him, because he loved her! He loved her and he was the one fucking up their friendship.

She was not in love with him.

"You can't be," he blurted.

"I can't?" Her voice was high, it was tearful and pained all at once.

He lowered his gaze, shook his head, "I'm the one stupidly in love with my best friend, you can't… you can't…"

"I can't take that away from you?"

There was a hint of something in her voice. Not the pain he'd caused. Not the pain he'd seen in her eyes.

He lifted his gaze to hers, and she was smiling despite the tears that were streaking her cheeks.

"What do we do?" Tyrion asked, sighing loudly.

"I don't really know," Sansa replied.

It was in that moment they both realized they were still holding the other's hand. It made Tyrion chuckle, and it made Sansa chuckle too.

Something in that moment made Tyrion took a look sideways, back towards the house, and he saw his mother standing at the window, a hand to her chest, a bright smile on her face.

And his face burned. It burned so much it spread down his neck, into his chest and then his belly. And then his belly felt like butterflies had moved in.

"Maybe I could… I could drive you home still?" he asked, looking up at Sansa.

"I don't… really feel like going home. My head doesn't actually hurt, I just… didn't want to sit there listening to Jaime and Brienne kiss, or listen as Arya tried helplessly to flirt with an oblivious Gendry."

The words made Tyrion laugh, "Oh gods, so it wasn't just me then?"

She smiled warmly, "Never was. I wish you'd told me though. This past… year… it could have gone so differently."

"Your grades didn't fall though," he offered as a consolation.

"True, but I missed out on making out with you in a bunch of once-in-a-lifetime locations that we visited for school."

He'd day-dreamed about doing just that, at every one of them too. "Me too," he said, "But we still have a few months left in the year, and at least two more road trips."

She tugged on his hand, "We don't have to wait until then."

Tyrion couldn't help but smile. "Where too then, m'lady?"

With her other hand, Sansa reached for the gate's lock and pulled it free. "There's another screening of Source Code in about forty minutes."

"Crowded theatre, really?" Tyrion asked, surprised when it was the presence of other people that had her wanting to skip tonight's movie.

"Drive-through," Sansa replied with a wink, opening the gate.

He grinned and followed alongside her and down the driveway to where Jaime's blood-orange Dodge Challenger awaited them.

When they reached the front of the car, Sansa stopped them both.

"You want to drive?" Tyrion asked, "Honestly I don't mind if you do. I really am a—"

Sansa stopped him mid-speech by bending down and, hesitating for a moment first to search his eyes, pressed a perfect kiss upon his lips.

The feel of her mouth against his made Tyrion's stomach somersault all over again, and when their lips soon parted he kept his eyes closed just in case this was all really just a dream.

He remembered then that Sansa knew he did that, and so when he felt her warm breath against his face he wasn't surprised when she captured his mouth with hers again and kissed him deeper. He returned the kiss with an intensity that conveyed just how long he'd so desperately wanted to kiss her, and Sansa repaid the moment in kind by lightly biting his lower lip.

Oh no. No he was definitely not dreaming after all.


End file.
